Caline Bustier hummed to herself, collecting the papers together, ready to bring them home for the night. There, she would put them into safe keeping until Monday, which was when the school would open its doors once more.
It was Friday, exactly a week after the initial attack of Chat Blanc, and Caline had never been more tired.
It was quite difficult to stop her students from talking during her class about that scoundrel, and hard to keep them accounted for while a few of them, usually Kim, went off to protest against the feline villain. She was all for it the first day, and encouraged him, but now he was absent every day from her class. She would have to text his parents.
As teacher, she only had her students' parents' phone number, all except for Marinette, who, as Class Representative, had direct contact to Mme. Bustier.
Caline moved to turn off the lights, freezing when she spotted a few loose objects scattered around the classroom. A stick of lip gloss at Chloe's table that she probably wouldn't miss and just throw away when it was returned to her on Monday, Nino's bubble container, Ivan had a pin shaped like a heart left at his desk, and, as usual, Rose had left a random pink trinket. or an IPO, as the teachers usually referred to the Inexplicable Pink Objects.
Caline gathered all these things up, writing herself a mental note to ask everyone to pick up all their things or else they'd be thrown away. After all, picking up the objects was getting tedious. She'd had to deal with it for the last two and a half courses. Which, in theory, was eight months straight of picking things up.
As Caline headed down to her desk again, under which was left a Lost and Found box, she passed Marinette and Alya's bench, spotting the former's sketchbook laying face-up on the table. Caline ignored it for the time being, emptying the objects currently in her arms into the box, then headed back to Marinette's chair.
It was open to a page with a few different costume designs. By looking closer, Mme. Bustier was able to tell that the people in uniform were supposed Marinette, Adrien, and another feminine figure Caline was unable to identify, but could see from the eyes was Asian and had short hair. Contrary to what she expected, Caline realized that the outfits the three were wearing weren't wedding uniforms but were actually everyday clothes. In tiny script somewhere on each were the words Ne méprise pas le chat noir.
Caline, aware of her student's possessiveness of her drawing atlas, opened up Marinette's name in her text, the last message from about a month ago when they had discussed some things Marinette wanted to take care of for the class.
Marinette, I have your sketchbook here at school. I will return it to you on Monday. She texted rapidly.
If it had been Nathaniel with his sketchbook, Mme. Bustier would have contacted his parents, same with the rest of the class and their favorite things. For example, Adrien's ring that he was overprotective of, the promise rings Mylene and Ivan had given to one another, or Markov for Max.
Returning her attention to the book, Mme. Bustier stared at the small writing.
'Ne méprise pas le chat noir', Caline read silently, sitting down in Marinette's spot so that she could look at the book comfortably. Of course, she wouldn't flip through it, but she was intrigued by the sketches on the open page before her.
'Ne Méprise pas le chat noir', eh? Mme. Bustier inwardly repeated, cocking an eyebrow. She got that from me, didn't she? Indeed, it was among one of their first lessons that semester; 'Ne méprise pas ton prochain'. 'Don't despise your neighbor.'
Clever Marinette. Caline ruefully thought, resting her chin on the back of her palm, mimicking The Thinker sculpture. Shoving my lessons back in my face without actually doing anything. I doubt she knew I'd ever read this.
And now Caline was curious. Was she in the wrong?
Encouraging hateful behavior in her students?
Chat Noir was a murderer. Granted, several other akumas killed people, such as Syren, Style Queen, Gamer, and Befana. Frozer was supposedly also guilty, but it wasn't proven if he killed people when he froze them, or just sent them into a cryogenic sleep.
However, none of these killed quite so many as Chat, nor did they make it their main focus to slay all in their path. It was simply different.
But, as the maxim said, 'Love your neighbor as yourself'. Murderer or not, Caline had to remind herself that he had been under Hawkmoth's control. It wasn't this fault, no matter how hard it was to think. As a sinful, evil human, she wanted to peg the boy she saw instead of the mastermind. A poor, innocent boy, framed. And though it was obvious who the true convict was, everyone believed the boy was the doom of them.
Wait a second. Caline realized, standing as she picked up the book, closing it gently.
Chat Blanc, under Hawkmoth's control, had killed a million individuals, and not a single person went that day without losing someone they knew. The entire city had been grieving.
Caline had discovered long ago that it was not beyond Hawkmoth to prey on the sorrow of others from a dead loved one. He had done so several times in the past; any Parisian would be able to recall at least one of the advents that demonstrated his cruelty.
He could've taken over the grief of the entire city, formulated another Heroes' day. Perhaps he would have even landed his akumatization powers upon all of the temporary heroes, leaving Ladybug utterly alone. Unless, perhaps, she too was burdened by her sorrow.
But he didn't use those negative emotions. Caline frowned at the realization, gently placing the sketch book into the bin.
She headed out the door, locking the school room door firmly behind her, sighing gently.
"Have a good weekend, Caline." Selene Mendeleiev quipped, done with locking up her classroom, too.
"You as well, Selene." Caline responded, waving to the older and more experienced teacher. "I hope you enjoy your family reunion."
Mme. Mendeleiev just nodded, adjusting her glasses as she quickly walked ahead of Mme. Bustier and disappeared down the stairwell.
Caline followed, slower, running her fingers through her hair, lost in though and she considered everything that had happened the in the last week. "Good night, Fred and Keith." She waved to the janitor and principle; the two men immersed in a conversation.
Fred Haprèle tipped his hat to her, giving her a plesent smile, and Keith Damocles gave her a stiff nod, then returned to their discussion.
Mme. Bustier left the building, going toward the bus stop, humming to herself as she began to really think.
What did make Chat Blanc different so much worse than all the other akumas? He wasn't the first deadly akuma, and there was no way he'd be the last.
Even though Hawkmoth didn't take advantage of the situation and create a rip off of the Hero's Day situation, he could've at least released a few other different akumas that were just as deadly as Chat Blanc, or at very least a challenge for the heroes. Ladybug and…and…what was the new hero's name? A Spike?
Heavens, Caline had already forgotten. Leaning against the pole holding up the bus stop sign, a quick search proved it to be Aspik, not A Spike, which would honestly make no sense. It still made no sense to Caline, but eh.
So. Hawkmoth didn't just waste one mass-akuma attack, but also wasted the entire week – for himself - by being scarce.
What kind of master plan was he cooking up? He was a smart, sinister man. He thought up plans that challenged those of Ladybug herself. So, he should've tried to pull them off, or, at very least, conjured up those ideas.
Caline boarded the bus, finding a spot near the back and pulled out her book, Murder on the Orient Express, out of her bag and opening it up to the second part. She couldn't focus on the words, however, and put it down again, laying it on her lap, staring out the window.
Chat Blanc wasn't inherently evil…he was being forced to be evil. Just like Mme. Bustier had been when she was Zombiezou. He hadn't been aware of what he was doing but driven by his anger.
Caline thought for a moment, sighing. Adrien had been upset on Friday. When he had went home, she had been afraid he would be akumatized, but Chat Noir beat him to it. If Adrien had done the same things as Chat Blanc had, Caline wondered if Paris would've turned on him as well. Adrien was loved, Chat Noir was looked down on.
It was discriminating.
Caline tapped her chin, thinking for a moment, then fished her phone out of her bag. She hesitated for a bit more, then quickly sent a second text to Marinette. If you're taking commissions, I'd like a Chat Noir scarf.